


You Never

by EonAO3



Series: Picture Perfect [2]
Category: Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Awkward First Times, Celebrity Crush, Dating, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mild Language, Relationship(s), Romance, Sarcasm, Sassy, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:44:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EonAO3/pseuds/EonAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sitting at home in LA, you have plenty of time to kill while your boyfriend, Sebastian Stan, is globetrotting to promote his latest Marvel film. You listen to Sebastian's appearance on his friend's podcast...and learn a few interesting things about your guy's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Never

The late afternoon sun warmed the living room with its orange tones. The breeze rustled through the trees outside the floor to ceiling windows of your new living room. The fresh air swirled into the house through the open French door to your yard overlooking the Hollywood Hills. It was a humble two bedroom house, with a great view and wide lot. It was quiet and private, a welcome change from the apartment in the bustling neighborhood of Palms you used to share with your roommate/PA. Most importantly, it was the first home you bought for yourself.

It was your third day in your new place. Boxes were still piled in their respective rooms, waiting to be opened and emptied, and there was a large heap of old newspaper and bubble wrap growing off to one side in the living room, as you and your assistant had begun the slow process of unpacking your things to turn your surprisingly empty house into a home. The kitchen was mostly finished. In fact, you were enjoying your first home cooked meal from your recently redone gourmet kitchen, knees pulled up in the comfort of an arm chair, the only piece of furniture, in the room.

Listening to a podcast on your phone, the interview dropped out when your phone rang and a photo of you and your boyfriend, Sebastian Stan, took over the screen. You smiled for a moment at the caller ID photo of the two of you from New Year's Eve, before you swept your thumb over the screen and answered.

"Hello, beautiful," Sebastian greeted your hello.

"Hey there, handsome," you smiled. 

You gave a small sigh when he asked, "How's the house coming along?"

"Slow, but steady," you nodded to yourself. "The clothes are unpacked and kitchen's just about done. The new couches come tomorrow. And the dining room set."

"You're not getting rid of the chair are you?" 

You detected a hint of worry in Sebastian's question and assured him, as you stroked the arm of your oversized chair once, "No! I love my chair. Never."

"That's my chair," he possessively said.

"Come over here and fight me for it," you dared him.

"If I could come back there, right now," he began, "I can think of plenty of better things to do with you than fight over the chair."

You could practically see the devilish smirk on his face. You bit your lip, surprisingly a bit shy for being in front of no one. But Sebastian had a way of flirting that drove you wild. Subtle to overt and everything in between, and you loved it. It was almost too easy for him to put a smile on your face.

"God," he sighed. "I miss you."

"Aww," you cooed. "I miss you, too. But you'll be here soon."

Sebastian hummed his positive response. "Getting ready to leave here in a bit. What are you up to?" he asked.

Twirling your fork around in your bowl, you told him, "Eating a late lunch. Spent all morning unpacking with Ashley today. Gonna finish eating before I get a shower and call it a day."

"You going to bed at what- 3:30?" Sebastian laughed. "You're turning into an old lady."

"That is an awful thing to say," you scolded him, trying not to laugh yourself. "No, I mean I'm done for now. I don't wanna be all gross and sweaty from unpacking when you get here. And newsflash, moving is exhausting. But anyway, I was listening to a podcast while I ate, before you called."

"What'cha eatin'?" he asked.

"Noodles."

"You made noodles?" he nearly whined and it made you chuckle. "Not the peanut ones with pork," he seemed to hope.

"Noodles, yes," you told him. "Pork, no. And I figured out I didn't have any ginger halfway in, so..." You shrugged at your fudged recipe and took a bite of the noodles dangling around your fork. "They're okay."

"I want noodles," he grumbled.

"You're in New York," you reminded him. "Head over to chinatown on your way to the airport and I guarantee you can find better noodles."

"But I want your noodles," he plaintively insisted.

"You're adorable," you smiled at his miniature tantrum. "I'll go to the store tomorrow and make you noodles, the right way, for dinner." You turned your fork in your bowl for another bite and playfully added, "Unless you'd rather get a Happy Meal."

"What?" The confusion was obvious in his voice. "A Happy Meal?"

You snickered, readjusting the phone between your ear and shoulder. "Yeah," you smiled, reloading your fork with noodles as you talked. "I was listening to your-"

"Oh, son of a bitch," he breathed out, sounding slightly horrified, and you could imagine the panic in his eyes that went with the tone of his voice. "Don't- No. Listen, ...do _not_ listen to that."

You were already sputtering, feeling a heat come to your eyes and cheeks as you tried not to spit out your half-chewed noodles onto the freshly steam cleaned carpet beneath your chair. "I already have," you explained, around your mouthful of dinner.

"Jesus," he whispered, plainly embarrassed.

"You never bought me a Happy Meal," you muttered, hoping your smile didn't keep it from sounding as disappointed as you meant it to.

"Seriously?" Sebastian begged. "You're gonna-" He huffed out a breath on the other end of the line. "Why are you listening-"

"Why would I not?!" you all but insisted. "This is gold!"

You heard the small snarling inhale and pictured the eye roll that usually went with it, before he went on. "I shoulda never told you I was doing the podcast," he chided himself. 

"Oh, you really think someone wouldn't have sent this to me the instant it posted?" you tutted. "Please."

"Whatever," he unhappily said. "Are you done now?"

"Nnnope."

"Aw, come on," Sebastian griped. "Nobody's hassling you about losing your virgi-"

"Because it doesn't have a storybook ending like yours," you promised. "And, furthermore, I am very confident I won't be discussing it on a podcast or anywhere else."

"I'm so glad I called," he sarcastically told you, and you could almost see the shake of his head in his voice. "I am...truly."

You couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, stop," you told him. "You shoulda known what would happen."

"Yeah," he huffed. "Right."

You paused a beat, chewing on your noodles before you added, "Can't believe you didn't get me a Happy Meal after we-"

"You didn't get a Happy Meal?" Sebastian indignantly parroted. It took all you had to keep from bursting into laughter as he went on. "I didn't get you a cheap hotel room either," he pointed out.

"The Times Hotel is _not_  a cheap hotel room," you noted.

"I made you breakfast the morning after," he argued. "We had omelettes...at your place. And you loved it, if I remember correctly."

The laughter got away from you, despite your efforts. "You do. I did," you promised, trying to regain your composure. "It was wonderful and sweet and better than a Happy Meal."

"Yeah, exactly," Sebastian confidently scoffed. "So, you can forget about your fucking Happy Meal."

"Can I ask you something?" 

Sebatian groaned out a loud sigh. "Is there anyway I could stop you?"

"Did you have a nice view?" you teased, while Sebastian groaned again, even louder. "Did you get the view with The Ambassador and Saint Ma-"

"Alright already," he cut in, with an unhappy grumble. "What was so great about your first time, huh? He take you out for champagne and caviar after?"

"No," you giggled, amused at Sebastian's sudden modesty and simultaneous hint of jealousy.

"Well, come on then, sweetheart," he arrogantly invited. "Let's have it."

You laughed out loud at the memory. "Well, it wasn't as extravagant as yours," you warned him.

"Yeah yeah," he muttered. "Out with it. Come on. Who's the guy?"

"His name was Matt Smith," you said, pushing around your noodles in the bowl. "He-"

"Matt Smith?" he repeated. "Oh, he sounds like a winner. I can already see why you think you get to judge me," Sebastian sarcastically quipped.

"Be nice," you insisted. "He was sweet. We dated, like, a year and a half around high school. Two proms and a homecoming."

"Did _Matt_ buy you a Happy Meal?" Sebastian checked, the question dripping with derision.

" _Matt_ and I chipped in for a beach house in Destin with some friends for Spring Break our senior year of high school," you smugly informed him.

"Well, if you'd have gotten a hotel room in Times Square, you wouldn't have to worry about you friends bustin' ya," he sassed.

"They didn't," you started with a smirk, "because we did it on the beach after a bonfire. And I didn't get a Happy Meal because we got ice cream."

"Oh, that," he began, sounding incredibly smug. "That is _much_ better. Some nasty spring break beach instead of a luxury hotel in Times Square. Yeah, I get why you've got the better story. Because nothing says 'I win' like sand up your ass."

"It's not a bad story," you confidently shrugged, wagging your brow up in your own amusement. "It was good for me."

"We're never talking about this again," Sebastian flatly declared. "I never wanna hear about Matt or Destin or Happy Meals again. Okay?"

"I can't make that kind of promise," you declined, smiling to yourself as you wound up more noodles.

"You're killing me, woman," Sebastian complained. "You know that? ...No more podcasts. Eat your noodles and forget you ever heard about it."

"Ohh ho ho, I can't forget that," you assured him. "Have the boys heard about your affinity for Happy Meals?"

"Don't you dare," Sebastian warned.

"Maybe Anthony would-"

"I swear to god, [y/n]," he threatened.

"Okay," you conceded. "I give."

"Good," he scoffed, sounding confident and indifferent. "And when I get back to LA," he began to promise, "I'm gonna make you forget every other guy's name you ever knew."

"And then after," you wondered, "can we get Happy Meals?"

"Oh, fu-," he stopped himself, mid-gripe. "I'll buy you your own god damn McDonald's and you can eat all the fucking Happy Meals you want. Okay?"

"I think I could just settle for you making me forget anyone else's name," you smiled.


End file.
